Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Fat Head



See?  JG sort of has a fat head.  It's an adorable fat head, especially with that hat her grandma made, but a fat head non-the-less.

I have been working on creative things... I'm just not very good at taking any pictures of my progress.  I'm in the process of making two new dolls and have a few "monsters" lying around.  This is my doodle of what I wanted it to look like:
And this is how it turned out:

He has a furry brown back and a fleece body and arms with felt "detailing."  His legs stick out kind of funny, but that's what you get the first time you make something.

I think it's kind of cute.  I'm working on the revision.

I don't think Maelly cares.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Cats in Ceilings

This last week I seriously started to question why I am the parent of two cats. Two injured, somewhat retarded cats.

As you know, Mael is diseased. And I was starting to feel pretty confident about his foot healing, up until he figured out how to move the cone so he could reach said food and lick it. With his sandpaper tongue. Which means it's taking forever for it to heal because he won't leave it alone.

Nevertheless, I was okay dealing with his foot.

Then, a chunk of fur fell off his rear right leg and revealed a new inflamed spot.

Effing cat.

To make kitty matters that much more interesting, Opal (who was loving and cuddly before the baby came, and is now hesitant and distant mixed with "You must hold me NOW") was in a fight (read attacked) with some tomcat and has two bites above her tail on her rear. They ooze. And the battle must have been quite the thing, because all the hair surrounding the bites is gone, like she was shaved.

So not just one injured cat, two. I keep looking at Stella and waiting for her to come up with something new (please dog, just don't).

And when Opal is sick or feels gross she prefers to hide. She spent a couple days in the cabinet with my baking pans. Another day with the towels (admittedly, she was accidentally closed in with them, so she couldn't have gone anywhere else if she wanted to). She also hid in JG's wardrobe, but that seems to be a kitty favorite.

Then, she found what to her must have been the celestial door to our basement ceiling (it's this weird opening at the back of our lazy-susan in the kitchen that gives her direct access). I wonder if she hears angels sing when that happens? The best part about her finding her way into the ceiling is that she really doesn't know how to get out. So I can be sitting there checking email or sewing, and hear her scratching, or meowing, from the heavens (read ceiling).

Whenever this happens (yes, this was not the first time) Alex starts to lament how she'll probably die up there and then we'll have to deal with the smell, and how will we find her corpse (by stink, I'm assuming) and blah, blah, blah.

She was in the ceiling for 48 hours.

Then Alex got the carpet knife (razor blade with a handle) out. Thank Jesus we have our awesome 70's acoustic tile ceiling, because it made it that much easier for him to cut out tiles (3), find her, and drag her out by the scruff.

Let me tell you, ceilings are dirty places, and she was one dusty kitty.

And my loving husband was very close to killing her. As was I. Doesn't she know I only have enough emotional real estate for ONE sick animal?

The best part? She got into another part of the ceiling the next morning.

Even better? Alex didn't have to cut anything to get to her.

Oh, man, I'm not sure I'm ever owning another cat.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

I stink

Have you ever had one of those moments where you realize you forgot something?  Something that allows you to safely interact with the rest of the human population?

Like, say, deodorant?

Because, oh man, I woke up to get JG last night and when I laid down with her I was like, "What is that stink?" And the embarrassing thing is that it was ME (of course, this is four in the morning, so it's not like anybody else was smelling me... well, except for my infant, but she didn't complain).

I am one of those people who has to apply a smell shield every day, otherwise it's just dangerous to be around me.  Even with cutting out the dairy in my diet, I still stink.

At four a.m. it took me a moment to realize what was going on, and I had a flash back to me getting out of the shower and hearing the shrill screams of an upset baby up from her nap.  I always pause when I hear her cry when she's napping, because sometimes she'll calm herself down and go back to sleep.  However, this time she was angry, and once this child is angry she demands to be comforted, or she'll will throw herself into such a fit that her whole body shakes and she gets angry rashes on her face.

And the cry that accompanies this fit is something no living person should have to be in the same house with.

So in lieu of following my usual routine, I had to go calm JG down, and she was not happy when I had to put her down for two minutes to put clothes on.

Which means that at four in the morning I woke to my own stench.

And I'm really hoping she'll be in for a nap soon, because, oh man, I really need a shower.

Monday, October 19, 2009

New Moon invitation?

This may sound strange, seeing as how I never got through the Twilight book (mainly because I can't stand listening to a teenage girl whine, and it is NOT romantic for a boy to sneak in your room and watch you sleep -- that's called stalking and is EXTREMELY creepy) but I want to go see New Moon.

Mainly because I had a good time at Twilight.  And, yes, I did burst out in laughter multiple times, but luckily the girls (women, really) I was with weren't bothered by it.  If anything, they shared the moment when the vampire "dad" (can't remember his name...) walked out and looked like a talcum powder covered corpse who wasn't old enough to buy alcohol let alone practice medicine.

So, this is an open invite to those interested in going to see New Moon with me this **weekend (or whatever works).  I can't promise not to giggle or make fun of the movie afterwards.  But if you can find it in your heart to help a mother out, one in desperate need of spending time with adults, then I will be truly grateful.

Thank you.

Sincerely yours,
PoetsHead

**EDIT: As Jessica so correctly pointed out, this movie doesn't actually come out until Nov. 20.  My offer still stands, even if it is a month away.
(If you are interested leave a comment or email me if you have the address.  And if it helps to persuade you, I'll sneak some candy into the movie.)

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

A squid at my child and all I got was this picture



Five months ago I had this thing, this baby, and went from being clueless about babies to absolutely confused.

Whoever tells you that babies don't cry loudly... just tell them that you know better.  My child cries so well that her doctor says that she's "very opinionated."

She really doesn't hesitate to let you know if you're doing something she doesn't like.  And then, for no apparent reason, she laughs at the dog for ten minutes.

A dog who is doing nothing but sitting there.  Seriously.

She also finds the cone-cat very funny.

So, to mark her five-month birthday I am attempting to boot her out of her cradle in our room -- because she is much too large for it -- and finally putting her into her crib in her own room.  I predict that I will not be getting much sleep tonight, but the transition has to happen sometime.  Especially since she seems to try to move in her cradle, but she can't because she's so large in it, so she wakes up, which wakes me up, and now she's spending the majority of the night with me.

I need some sleep on my own man.

Like, now.

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

Blue Ribbon MOTHER-LOVERS!

Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Yeah! (If you squint past my grinning mug to the chicken with the blue ribbon dangling from his hand, that's what I'm all up in your grill about.)

This week has been interesting.

My cat (the one who is still available if you'd like to purchase him) is in his third week of wearing a cone on his head. Said cone was necessary because he would NOT stop licking his damned maimed foot. So not only have I been caring for JGR, I've also been nursing a sick cat back to health... which is not fun. I have stories... but, I won't share them out of fear of seriously grossing out my small pool of readers.

By the by, my cat has eosinophilic granulomas (warning, the pictures are gross, and he has had this in his mouth, paws, and neck), which requires steroid injections and guarantee's that he will eventually have diabetes. Awesome.

JGR has been refusing naps and bedtime, and screams/cries like crazy when I try to get her to sleep. Joy. It's times like these when I think of how naive high school girls are when they pursue pregnancy in hopes of bearing a bubbly happy baby. (Hey, this happened at my high school.)

Let me tell you, high school girl, do not do it. Babies are freakin' hard, and I've had to push all thoughts of dropping said baby, or throwing said baby, or doing anything un-motherly to said baby out of my head.

I don't want to go to prison.

So it's times like these when I thank the G-O-D that I live near both sets of grandparents and I can pawn her off on them. Er, I mean, have them care for her when I am unable.

She's going through a transition where certain things I'm used to working with her are no longer working. (I have to admit that when I say "things" I mean "boobs," and while they can be one of the last things I turn to, when my boobs don't work, I'm clueless as to how to help sooth her.) So, in hopes of figuring out what the (hell) is going on, we gave her some rice cereal tonight. She'll be five-months-old next week, and she seems to be hungry after I feed her, so why not?

And you know what? Fell asleep like a charm tonight. Cried a bit, but nothing compared to the last few nights.

Now I leave you with some kitty abuse. I don't know how he lives with himself.




These two make me exhausted. I'm going to bed.

Friday, October 02, 2009

Mommy Blogger

Let me start by saying I never intended to be a "mommy blogger." However, looking back, it was bound to happen. I had a freakin' baby, after all.

I'm just hoping that I don't come across as the "look at my perfect life, my perfect baby, don't you just wish you were me?" kind of mommy blogger. Reading those kinds of blogs turn my stomach, especially because I don't believe in perfect.

Which makes what I'm about to say sound a bit hypocritical.

A while back we were given a gift certificate for the services of a professional photographer. Not only am I excited, I am nervous as hell. I've only had professional photos once, for my high school senior pictures, but I didn't end up with any of them (it's a dull story). Even my wedding photo's were taken by my brother-in-law (who did an excellent job and I love all of them, and I am convinced he took way better photo's than a professional would have).

I am hoping to end up with photographs that make me look good - because, honestly, I never like the way I look in pictures. I'm too pasty, my nose is too long, my smile looks like a midget just bit me in the ass.

Never in my life have I fretted so much about "outfits" and color and how I will appear. Looking through the pictures this professional takes... so many of the families exude the "look at how perfect we are" aura that I hate so much. And in the last week I found myself straining to be like that, trying to find the colors and outfits that would make us look different -- other.

Then it hit me tonight when Alex said, "We don't have to look more than we are, we just need to look like us."

And you know what? That smashing navy blue top I bought, that is beautiful and feminine and makes me look pretty curvy? That's not me. It's almost professional me (teacher me), but not me. And it doesn't look good with any of my jeans, which I plan on wearing for the pictures.

Plus we'll be outside (in Millcreek Canyon, because studios look and feel false and stodgy to me), and there's no way that top will keep me warm enough to make it worth it.

So I'm going to wear a green sweater my husband compared to something you'd find at the Army/Navy surplus. I like it, I'm comfortable in it, and it will show me for who I am. I will also probably wear my orange bowling shoes. Just for a flash of color.

And I'll take the fancy navy blue shirt back, Alex told me to keep it, but really, when am I going to have a reason to wear it? I've gotten into the habit of wiping JGR's spit-up away with my shirt, and as soon as I have on anything dark it's covered in cat hair. It's an animal owner's (read adoptive parent's) rule, "Thou shalt be covered in the fine hairs your animals produce."

Also, I think I'd rather not feel guilty about buying the lotion I want. So the shirt will be returned.

So the last thing I need to wrap up is what to have JGR wear. We're leaning toward farmer baby (overalls) with a sweater or something warm. Something that says, "I snuggle with a tarantula and a squid." (Hey, this kid has great taste in toys.)

Hopefully we'll get photographs that represent us, not some through-the-looking-glass representation of us.

Because perfect may be nice, but in no way is it fun.